


Fuel This Fire

by Minxchester (ComeAlongPond14)



Series: I've Got You [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Daryl Dixon, Creampie, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Secret Relationship, Top Rick, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAlongPond14/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: “I’m in,” Rick says, and for a moment Daryl is confused, before the older man continues. “I’m willin’ to do this--us, whatever it is. See where it takes us."Title from "Move Your Body" by My Darkest Days.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Aight, time to get down to the sexier stuff. I'm plowing through season 7, so I'm basically just rewriting the plot of seasons 5-7 as a Rickyl love story at this point (no offense, Michonne, I do love you).
> 
> EDIT: I went back to s5 in Netflix. WHOOPS, he'd already showered and shaved that first night. Fixed it!

_Alexandria, Night One, Grimes House_

They refuse to separate. Once Deanna has acknowledged that the family will stick together, she smiles at them oh-so-gently before she says goodnight, and slips back out into the night. Rick can see the faint ripple of exhausted relief that runs through them all when the front door closes, even as they maintain vigilant gazes on the windows and entry ways. Just like they had in the barn, they spread out in a tight cluster, arranging pillows and blankets and sleeping bags and dividing up into their usual pairs and trios for sleeping.

After the room is still and quiet, when everyone else is asleep and it’s clear that rest isn’t coming his way just yet, Rick slides silently to his feet, ghosting his way among his people and entering the kitchen that Deanna has said is his now. His and Carl’s, if they stay in Alexandria.

He never was much of a cook. Lori did most of it, before all this started, and even Carl has some knack for it. Rick wonders if he can make some kind of group-servicing cooking arrangement, like they had at the prison. Some way for them all to keep taking care of one another, whether or not they’re under the same roof.

He explores the refrigerator--which is empty--and then the drawers, pulling out a long knife and examining it curiously.

It isn’t a noise so much as just peripheral awareness that tells him he’s no longer alone, and Rick turns his face, just enough to see Daryl leaning against the doorframe. If Rick’s initial sense of the house’s floor plan is correct, the hallway behind Daryl leads deeper into the house--away from the living room where their friends are sleeping.

“Lot more walls, here,” Daryl comments, and when Rick raises his eyebrows in question, Daryl shrugs. “Bit more...privacy.”

That makes the older man pause, and he cocks his head, placing the knife very carefully, soundlessly, back into its drawer for now. “I reckon that’s so,” he replies turning around and leaning back against the counter, watching the archer thoughtfully. “So you...haven’t changed your mind.”

Daryl’s smile turns a touch sardonic. “I told you, Rick, you were gonna be the only one second-guessing this.”

Rick shakes his head in denial, reaching up to rub his hand over the newly-smooth skin of his cheeks. If this place is what it seems to be--if it’s real, and safe for them--he'll be able to stay more clean-shaven. And if that happens...he might have a few more surprises for Daryl, in the near future.

Most people don’t like beard burn on their inner thighs, after all.

“Not second-guessing,” he assures the younger man. “I don’t think I could, not after...not after the barn.” Rick sees the little shiver that passes through Daryl’s frame at the reminder of their hands on each other, and the older man smirks promisingly. “We could even do...more, now.”

As he expects, Daryl’s eyes darken hungrily at the suggestion, and Rick smiles knowingly, nodding to indicate that he means what he said. “Have you looked upstairs yet?”

Daryl shakes his head, and angles his body slightly; an invitation. Rick looks toward the other entrance to the kitchen, but no one is stirring in the front room. Confident that they’ll have some time, he turns to slip past Daryl, and leads the way up the stairs to the second floor. There are bedrooms for both him and Carl--and a third, making him suspect that Deanna offered the Grimes family this home with Judith’s later years in mind, knowing that a growing girl wouldn’t want to share with her father or her brother--and Rick heads for the farthest and largest of the three.

He crosses to the large, neatly made bed, turning around just as Daryl steps through the door, and closes it behind him. The two men stare at one another for a moment, and then something inside of Rick snaps.

Striding forward, he slides one hand around Daryl’s side to brace his back, cupping the other at his jaw, and pushes the younger man back into the wall beside the door as Rick finally kisses him. It’s hungry, almost savage, filled with pent-up need from too long without contact--or perhaps just too much stress in between opportunities.

Either way, Rick kisses him like he was drowning for it, and Daryl opens at once, letting himself be pushed back into the wall and clutching at Rick like he’s his only source of oxygen.

“You said you like a lot of things,” Rick breathes into his mouth, soft and questioning. “Back in the barn. You ever--?”

Daryl cuts him off, knowing where he’s heading with this. “Nah. But doesn’t mean I ain’t willing.” He sees the hesitation that flashes in Rick’s face at his reply, and shakes his head impatiently. “Don’t. Don’ start thinkin’ too much, not now. I swear, it’s fine with me.” He pauses, seeming to steel himself to say his next words. “I want you, okay?”

The bluntness of that is what seems to get through to Rick, and he swallows roughly, eyes dropping to Daryl’s mouth briefly. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

He steps backward, away from Daryl, but his body language is open and receptive; he isn’t quitting. His hands rise, gripping the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it off over his head, and then Rick stills as he lets the garment fall to the ground, watching the way Daryl looks at him. The way the younger man’s eyes roam over his torso, noting the scars that have been added since they lost the prison, seeing the way the muscle is built--not much room for fat on the former sheriff’s figure.

Daryl licks his lips, moving forward and reaching up to swiftly undo the buttons of his threadbare, worn-out shirt. His clothes have never hidden his arms, and it isn’t as if Rick hasn’t seen him shirtless before--but not like this. Glimpses in the prison shower stalls, or working on their meager farm--never before had the sight of Daryl sun-darkened skin and muscular arms held this kind of significance.

Reaching for him with no more reservations, Rick hooks his fingers through the frayed belt loops of Daryl’s pants and tugs him flush up against himself. Daryl huffs out a little breath as he’s pulled forward, smiling faintly, and lets one arm swing up to hook over Rick’s shoulders while the older man gets to work opening up his fly.

“There’s somethin’ that I wanted to do before,” Rick whispers, getting the zipper down and working Daryl’s pants a short ways down his thighs. He’s got nothing on underneath, like always, giving Rick easy access to his body. “In the barn, I mean. You comin’ in my hand was--it was stunning. But I wanted to try somethin’ a little more up close an’ personal, this time ‘round.”

Daryl’s mouth opens, wanting to ask what that means, but his voice dies in his throat when Rick sinks right down to his knees in front of him. He shudders from head to feet, staring down at the older man as he gently frees Daryl’s cock, and then leans forward to close his mouth over the head, tongue swirling lightly under the glans.

A wheezing laugh leaves Daryl’s lips, and Rick raises his eyes to his face in question, though he doesn’t pull back. One of Daryl’s hands slides into his hair, brushing some of the strands back from Rick’s eyes to see his face better. “Just--you can’t go tellin’ me you’re good at _this_ just from havin’ your own dick,” Daryl manages, and Rick’s lips curl upward at the corners with amusement, just slightly, before he draws in a breath and sinks forward, taking the other man’s cock further into his mouth.

“Guess I--can’t complain with what you’re offerin’, though,” Daryl chokes out, and Rick chuckles wetly around his shaft, lips sliding back along his length. He doesn’t pull off yet, just brings his hand into the mix; he wraps his fingers around the base of Daryl’s cock, stroking everything that he can’t get his mouth around. He resolves to work on that, to be able to take Daryl down to the base.

“Shit,” the archer pants out, bare toes curling into the carpet--fuck, Daryl doesn’t know the last time he was in a carpeted house without being on the run--and tangles both hands into Rick’s hair, hips bucking forward. “Goddamn, if I’d have known you were gonna be this good--”

He cuts off when Rick sucks harder around him, and Daryl shudders again, tugging gently at the older man’s hair to get his attention. When Rick looks at him, Daryl swallows at the sight of his hollowed-out cheeks, blue eyes blazing above lips stretched beautifully around the younger man’s erection.

“Can we--I wanna--to wait till we’re, till you’re--” But he stops there, unable to say the words themselves, unable to ask.

Rick pulls off at last, lifting his head--strings of spit cling to his lips, forming thin, shining bridges from his mouth to Daryl’s cock, and the hunter’s eyes flutter at the sight of it--and Rick grins.

“You sure you want it, if you can’t even ask me for it?” he asks, soft and teasing, letting his hands drift up to settle against Daryl’s thighs. He can feel him shaking faintly, and Rick tightens his hands, letting Daryl feel the solidity and firmness of his grip against his legs. Bracing him.“We can just--do it again, sweetheart, same as we did before. We can be noisier this time, after all. Doesn’t mean we have to go further just yet.”

Daryl sucks in a long, ragged breath, and when he slides down to Rick’s level, it’s unclear if he’s kneeling voluntarily, or collapsing. Rick catches him all the same, arm slipping back around his waist, supporting him as Daryl looks him in the eyes, his own gaze wide and hungry.

“No,” he whispers, his fingers scraping helplessly, uncertainly over Rick’s shoulders and down his arms. “No, I--” He stops, seems to get his emotions under control and his thoughts in order, and he’s calmer when he tries again. “I wanted to, then. I did, and I do now. Just ain’t words I’m used to sayin’, but I--I need you, Rick. I need what you promised me.” Daryl slides one hand back up Rick’s neck, hand cupping his cheek and feeling the scritch of freshly-shaved hair. “Please.”

Capturing Daryl’s hand in his, Rick holds it tight, pressing his palm to his face--not quite a kiss, but close enough. “I ain’t denying you, sweetheart, don’t fret. Just makin’ sure that _you’re_ sure.”

He glances once toward the door--checking that Daryl closed it securely, that anyone who might come eavesdropping would give some kind of warning before walking in on them--and then he moves. Pushing Daryl down onto his back, Rick follows him down at once, and when he kisses him now, it’s rough and raspy, with none of the vague, sound-muffling restraint he had needed to show when they were in the barn.

Now it’s driven by pure need, the scruff still on Daryl's cheeks scratching against his skin, and hands exploring helplessly. Rick drags his lips away from Daryl’s mouth, over his throat and down his chest, kissing and licking at the salt and sun clinging to his skin from their travels. He continues making his way down, kissing the planes of Daryl’s chest, and stomach, down to where his hipbones curve out sharply, beautifully, just above where his cock is still out of his pants and resting against his shivering belly. His teeth wrap around that pronounced line of bone, feeling Daryl shudder at the pleasure-pain of the almost-bite.

Rick hooks his hands into the waistband of the younger man’s pants, straightening up onto his knees and tugging them down his legs, working them off and then tossing them aside.

Once he has Daryl bare before him, Rick doesn’t take it slow any longer. His hands settle on the hunter’s hips, guiding him over, and with barely a mumbled directive he has Daryl rolling over onto his elbows and knees, holding himself up as best as he can for Rick’s viewing. Daryl’s face flushes darkly under the heat and weight of the older man’s gaze on his naked body, but he doesn’t shy away.

“Fuck,” Rick whispers, one hand landing on the middle of Daryl’s spine, and he smoothes it down the length of his back, down to his ass. “You have no idea how good you look like this, do you?” He hears the little snort that Daryl makes at the compliment, and Rick chuckles. “I’m serious, sweetheart, don’t you scoff at me. You’re--you look amazing.”

Folding himself over Daryl’s back, Rick rests his hips flush up against Daryl’s, pressing his denim-clad thighs to the back of the other man’s and lowering his face to let his lips trail up his shoulder until his mouth grazes his ear. “Just to make sure things are still explicitly clear--you know that I want this too, don’t you?”

Daryl swallows, blinks away the sting that rises behind his eyes at the words, and reaches back between his legs. He grasps his own dick, still slick with Rick’s saliva, and gives it a stroke just to feel the relief of a little friction.

“I do now,” he replies hoarsely, then glances over his shoulder with the faintest hint of a smirk. “You think these nice domesticated people keep lube stocked in their spare houses?”

Rick barks out a laugh before quieting himself, glancing around toward the bedside table--but that would mean getting up, and breaking contact with Daryl’s skin. And no matter the value of lube, he can’t bring himself to do that.

“Spit’ll do,” Daryl goes on, as if reading his mind; his feet spread a little wider, rubbing their ankles together in wordless affirmation of needing to keep touching. “Just--needs a bit more.”

“Yeah, know that’s the truth,” Rick agrees, smiling as he draws back to eye Daryl’s ass more speculatively. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, getting them good and wet, then reaches down to rub the pads thoughtfully over the soft pucker of Daryl’s entrance. “Let’s see how receptive you can be, huh, sweetheart?”

The first touch makes Daryl jolt slightly, but he forces himself to relax, trying to fight the urge to recoil or tighten his ass in resistance. It takes too much of his focus to keep still and let Rick test the give of his entrance for him to actually enjoy the moment--but he figures this isn’t supposed to be the best part, anyway.

Rick spits onto his fingers again, adding a little more slick, and Daryl shudders at the cool, damp touch. “‘S still okay?” Rick asks softly, massaging to open up the tight furl of his hole, and Daryl nods.

“Yeah, ‘s good,” he grunts, then gasps as one fingertip breaches, slipping inside of him. “Fuck,” Daryl hisses, a little louder. “Fuck, yeah, it’s good. Keep goin’.”

It takes no time at all for Rick to get his index finger sliding easily in and out of the younger man’s body, and with a little more spit, his middle finger eventually joins it. It’s when the third finally gets in there that he manages to find what he’s looking for--just because Rick’s never been with a man doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what kind of shit is involved. And he’s well aware that the prostate isn’t a myth.

At the first brush of his fingertips over the little bundle of nerves, Daryl’s entire body jerks, and a tiny, startled noise slips from him. “The fuck--?”

“Yeah, figured you might not know ‘bout that,” Rick laughs, giving it another rub and feeling the unmistakable way that Daryl’s body opens to him a little more, the pleasure from within helping his muscles to unlock. “God bless King County for being committed to a thorough sex education. I’ve never experienced this firsthand, but I know what it does in theory,” he says smugly, using his free hand to brace Daryl’s hip as the younger man bucks helplessly in reaction to the contact. “Looks like it’s every bit as nice as it sounded, huh?”

“Dunno what the fuck you’re doin’, but it’s all good by me,” Daryl growls back, pressing his face against the inside of his upper arm just to keep himself quiet. “Fuck, ‘s like--electric sparks in there. God--how much longer is it gonna take?”

Rick chuckles at his impatience, drawing back just enough to watch the smooth way his three fingers are sinking in and sliding back out, and he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss against the base of Daryl’s spine. “Should be good any second now,” he replies softly. “I dunno how much you need--I think it depends on the size of what’s goin’ in there.”

Daryl huffs at that. “From what I saw in the barn, ‘s gonna be tight no matter what we do. Don’t care--want it, come on. Don’ torture me.”

“Last thing I wanna do,” Rick promises him, twisting his fingers free again. Folding himself over Daryl’s back once more, he kisses the side of the younger man’s jawline as one hand slides back, down between their bodies, checking how much spit he has left smeared around Daryl’s entrance. “Not enough,” he murmurs, and Daryl turns his face, meeting Rick’s mouth in a messy, biting kiss.

“Add some more, then,” he mumbles against his lips, and his voice is garbled by spit and lust. “Quit stallin’, Rick, I wanna do this.”

Rick’s teeth catches on his bottom lip, playful, drawing a whimper out of him before the older man lets go, and slides back down his body to examine their situation. “Alright,” he growls back, working up some saliva and spreading it over his fingers. “Let’s get a move on, then, you mouthy little--”

He stops wasting breath on talking as he rubs the spit around Daryl’s entrance, getting it good and wet. Kneeling upright behind the younger man, Rick undoes his jeans and pulls his cock out, adding some more spit and stroking himself leisurely. “You want to come first again, or--”

“Nah,” Daryl shoots back, getting his hands under himself and bracing his weight a little more evenly. “Just fuck me, you asshole, c’mon.”

That gets another laugh out of Rick, and he smacks his hand lightly against Daryl’s ass, not caring about the risk of the noise it makes when Daryl’s reaction is to jolt forward and whimper in shock, his cock leaping against his belly. “There it is,” Rick whispers, giving the spot he’d smacked a gentle squeeze. “Know how to ask for it now, huh?”

“Said you weren’t gonna torture me,” Daryl retorts, and Rick hums in acknowledgement, gripping his cock and rubbing the head against his entrance. “Yeah--’s it, come on, quit fuckin’ around.”

“Mouthy,” Rick repeats, but he doesn’t give Daryl a chance to respond. With a quiet grunt, Rick pushes forward, and when he’s met with minimal resistance he thrusts harder, working his cock forward into Daryl until he can bottom out in one shove.

“ _Shit_ ,” Daryl gasps, turning to bite down on his forearm, hard. Rick watches the way his teeth dig into the skin, and it lights a fire in his belly, wondering what it would feel like to bite the other man--wondering how Daryl would respond, and how it would feel to have his skin flex beneath Rick’s teeth. It’s a feral feeling, dark and wild, and not one he’s ever experienced before. Not with Lori, not anyone.

Rick’s attention is dragged back to the present when Daryl lifts his head, mouth opening and leaving behind the imprint of two neat rows of teeth. “You did not do all that just to stop now, you dick, so _fuck me_.”

Grabbing Daryl around his waist, Rick folds over his back sinuously, biting down hard on the younger man’s earlobe and rolling his hips--drawing his cock back out, then thrusting back in swiftly. As he hopes, Daryl has to stifle another cry for him, arching back into his movements and clenching his fingers into the carpet helplessly as Rick starts up a brutal pace. Curses fall from his lips, muted but audible enough to know that he’s swearing up a storm, and Rick grins knowingly.

“Shoulda known you’d have an even fouler mouth durin’ sex,” he taunts, and catches a glimpse of sharp, knowing blue-green eyes, bright and smug as Daryl looks over his shoulder. His body is rocking forward and back with every thrust, and it occurs to Rick that he really, really has missed actual fucking.

The heat and clench of another warm body, pressing back into his and squeezing down around his dick--someone’s voice cracking on their moans and pleas.

Daryl’s voice.

“Rick,” he pants, and the older man looks down, watching his face as Daryl twists to look back at him, sweat gleaming on his face and eyes narrow and yearning. “Please.”

Realistically he doesn’t know for sure what Daryl’s asking for. Rick could take the time to ask, but he doesn’t see the need to. He can work it out easily enough.

He leans forward again, sliding one hand from Daryl’s waist up to his chest and hauling Daryl up onto his knees. Rick’s hand stays where it is, supporting the archer’s weight, while he moves the other around and down to circle his fingers back around Daryl’s cock.

He can feel the jolt that runs through the younger man’s body, hears the mutated, strangled whine that he lets out, and Rick presses his mouth to the side of Daryl’s neck, half a kiss and half sucking at the sweat-salty flesh, as if he could pass strength into the other man’s body through that contact and claim some back for himself.

The spit has dried on Daryl’s cock since they began; there’s not enough left for his movements to be smooth. Daryl grasps at his wrist, and Rick lets him tug his hand upward, bringing it to his mouth. A sigh of pleasure leaves the older man’s lips when Daryl licks a wide, wet stripe up his palm and over his fingers, then shoves his hand back downward--and Rick doesn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping his hand tightly around Daryl’s erection, he strokes in tandem with the moment that he punches his hips forward again, his own cock slamming back into the younger man’s ass as his fingers twist perfectly up and around the head of his dick.

Daryl makes a sound, something high-pitched and tender and beautiful, and he turns to press his face into the curve of Rick’s throat.

It takes a lot more effort like this, continuing to fuck Daryl while holding him upright, and jacking him off as well. But it’s worth it--especially when he feels Daryl’s teeth drag against his skin, scraping under his ear as the shorter man struggles to muffle his noises when his climax surges up through him.

The orgasm itself is...savage. Rick feels Daryl’s cock jump inside the cage of his fingers, and against his skin Daryl’s voice is barely audible when he whines, “Fuck, harder, please--fuck it--outta me--”

 _Beautiful, needy, perfect thing_. Rick nods, knowing Daryl will feel the movement beneath his lips, and he pushes forward; whether Daryl figures out what he’s doing, or just trusts Rick to look after them both physically, it’s hard to say, but he falls forward with Rick, catching himself on his elbows the way he had been when they first started. This time, though, Rick stays right with him, only dropping his left hand from Daryl’s chest down to the floor for more support as he uses the new position to continue rolling his hips.

At this angle he gets it just right, and Daryl keens breathlessly as Rick strikes his prostate dead-on. He starts stroking the younger man’s cock faster, and in the back of his mind, Rick knows that if he could see the two of them in this moment, what he would see would look undeniably like animals mating--wild, desperate, two hot-blooded creatures rutting into one another in need for relief and nearness.

“Daryl,” he groans, pressing his face to the curve of muscle where the hunter’s neck meets his shoulder, and he knows he must be getting a touch too loud, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he can feel him coming, Daryl’s release spilling hot and slick over his fingers--he can’t possibly contain it all, not this time, some dripping out of Rick’s palm and onto the carpet, thank God it’s a light color so he can hide the mess--and he hears the rushing cry of Daryl’s breath smashing out of his lungs from the force of it.

King County’s sex education updates might have included explaining the importance and unique attributes of the prostate gland, but they sure as hell didn’t mention how fucking amazing it would feel to be balls-deep inside another man as he came, his ass clenching down so fucking hard on your dick that it took the air out of every fiber and filament of your body.

“Jesus, Daryl,” Rick grates out, and with one last stutter of his hips, he’s coming as well, pulsing inside of the younger man, and he hears Daryl let out a broken little laugh as he starts to come back down from his own high. “That...was fuckin’ amazing.” One of Daryl’s hands lift from the carpet, and he offers a shaky thumbs up, making Rick smirk. “You okay, there? I fuck you speechless?”

He gets another sideways glance that’s too smug and filled with pleasure to really be considered a glare, and then Daryl sinks down onto his belly, effectively leaving Rick’s cock to slide out of him, spent and slick. Rick watches him go down, smiling gently as Daryl curls onto his side.

“Hang on, lemme--” he mutters, forcing his shaking legs to take his weight as he stands, and goes to drag the pillows off of the bed. Dropping them to the floor, he lies down beside Daryl, who rolls onto his back beside him and glances up toward Rick’s face. His cheeks are pink, but it isn’t all from exertion or embarrassment.

“'S weird, seein' you without the full-on Biblical beard,” he remarks, and Rick grins in agreement. “Curious how that might feel, but it's probably better this way--it’s harder to explain.”

The implication of needing to hide this from their group gives Rick pause--but he knows it’s a talk for another time. “Yeah, I’ll keep it trimmed,” he answers instead. “If we know if we're staying.”

Daryl just nods; unlike Michonne, he's still as unsure as Rick is, and if it came down to it he'd back the older man’s hesitation to jump at the chance to live here.

But he can't deny that there's some appeal to this--the privacy, and the quiet. A real bedroom with a closing door. If they stay, they even get their own homes--and unless there’s a shortage of available space, that might mean his very own place, somewhere that Rick can come and see him without having to worry about being heard through the walls.

It makes something uneasy twinge in his stomach, imagining being in a whole other house away from the people he now sees at his family. To be that far away from Rick. But that thought is childish, and he doesn’t have the nerve to ask about making a different arrangement.

Maybe later. If they don’t stay, it won’t matter anyway.

“We should probably go sleep downstairs, for tonight,” he comments, and Ricks sighs quietly, turning to press his face into Daryl’s neck as he nods agreement.

“Yeah, I know. Just don’t wanna let you go yet,” he replies, and the younger man smirks.

“Gettin’ hung up on me, huh?” he teases, but to Daryl’s surprise, Rick doesn’t laugh too; instead, he pushes up onto one elbow, gazing down at Daryl, and in the dim lighting from outside that filters in through the window, his expression is more intent that Daryl’s seen it in a while.

“I’m in,” Rick says, and for a moment Daryl is confused, before the older man continues. “I’m willin’ to do this--us, whatever it is. See where it takes us. I want you to know that--but also know that if it is just...y’know, stress relief, blowin’ off steam, that’s totally fine, too. I’m always here for you, however you need me. Just like always.”

Daryl blinks at the adamance in his tone, and then he nods, slowly. “I know you are.” He swallows, runs his tongue over his lips to moisten them enough for speech. “I didn’t--mean to suggest anythin’, with the whole not tellin’ the others. Just figured you’d want it that way.”

Rick’s smile turns a touch self-deprecating. “Well, ‘s always a little different with everyone, when--somethin’ new starts up. Like how much we all teased Glenn and Maggie in the beginnin’.”

The memory makes Daryl smile faintly, and he nods, his mind flashing back to the guard tower at the prison, and how it was more or less a code--“taking watch” was just an excuse for couples to sneak off together. He wonders if Rick would have been willing to risk it, if this had started up back then.

He wonders if anything short of a loss like Beth’s would have pushed them together like this.

“If we tell ‘em or don’t, I don’t care much,” he settles for saying. “I just--wanna know you won’t freak out at me when your brain catches up to you. Or, y’know, turn me down later, anything like that.”

Rick’s free hand reaches out, comes to rest on his chest over his heart, and Daryl knows the older man can hear the soft hammering of his pulse racing beneath the skin. “You and me, we think alike,” Rick points out, smiling faintly down at him. “We got the same mind for gettin’ things done, and for restin’ when we need to. I doubt there’s a time when one of us would be wantin’ some fun and the other isn’t feeling it.”

Daryl nods, relieved by that. “Alright. Good.” He hesitates for a second, then lifts his hand and puts it over Rick’s. “Was that--good?”

Something tender and possessive flickers through Rick’s eyes--not a new look for him, but infinitely different in this context, when it’s aimed solely at Daryl like this--and the older man nods, and leans down to press a far gentler kiss to his lips. He holds it for a long moment, until the heat of his mouth makes the skittering nervousness bleed out of Daryl’s body, and he relaxes, returning Rick’s smile when he raises his face again.

“That was fantastic,” Rick replies firmly. “And I didn’t hurt you?”

Daryl snorts softly. “You’d know if you had, I ain’t shy about bitchin’,” he reminds Rick, making him laugh. Daryl finds that that sound is quickly becoming one of his favorites. He used to just need to see Rick smile every day, but now, he thinks he’ll try and make him laugh more often, too.

When Rick lies back down, Daryl curls over, feeling uncharacteristically shy as he hooks his arm over the older man’s middle. But Rick doesn’t pull away or look annoyed by the proximity; he moves his arm, giving Daryl the space to shift closer, and leaves it just sprawling above the pillow he pulled down for them to share. It’s too cool to stay here, to be comfortable enough for either to risk falling asleep, but it’s good to just...stay, for a minute.

Eventually, though, Daryl becomes too aware of the odd, unfamiliar stickiness between his thighs, and with a grumble he sits up, reaching down to feel it. “...okay, but all the good stuff aside, this is messy as shit.”

Rick grins as he sits up with him, and he rolls Daryl over onto his stomach a little harder than necessary--the hunter grunts in surprise, but lets it happen, tucking his arms under the pillow and twisting his neck to stare back at Rick. “What, are you checkin’ out your claim or somethin’?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Rick shoots back, and Daryl gasps louder this time, because Rick’s fingers are pressing his ass cheeks apart, exposing his hole, and the steady leaking come dripping from it. “Goddamn, I like that view. See if I ever pull out, now.”

Daryl snorts, but doesn’t respond--frankly, he doesn’t care as long as they won’t get caught in a rush with a mess all over them--and he presses his face into the pillow, hiding his flush as Rick keeps examining his ass, clearly delighted by his own handiwork. Daryl wonders what it looks like--and his mind jumps to cameras, and to the Polaroid shots that Aaron brough to prove to them that Alexandria was real.

Maybe he and Rick could borrow it sometime--and then burn the photos, afterward. The idea is shocking and a little humiliating, and yet, now that it’s in his head Daryl doubts it’s gonna go away.

The light in the room is changing, night slowly melting toward dawn, and the floor is becoming colder, carpeted or not. Daryl squirms, feeling his eyelids drooping, and sighs. “Should go to bed. Got a lot to deal with tomorrow--today, whatever.”

Rick’s voice is quiet, distracted, the way it gets when he starts worrying for the group’s safety. “Yeah.”

Rolling over, Daryl sits up and tucks himself in against the older man, and feels relieved when Rick responds warmly, wrapping his arms around him and drawing him close. “‘S gonna be fine,” Daryl tells him, no room for argument in his tone. “We’ve gotten through worse. You’ll lead us right--and you got us backin’ you up.”

Rick’s arms tighten for a fraction of a moment, and then relax again, and he nods, pressing a kiss to the top of Daryl’s mussed up hair. “Yeah. Let’s get some rest.”

  
They dress quickly, and Daryl swings through the master bathroom to try and clean himself as best as he can--if they stay in Alexandria, he’s fucking taken a sizzling hot shower tomorrow, and not just because Rick fucking creamed his ass--and then follows the older man back down the stairs. No one has stirred, no sign that anyone’s been awake since Sasha and Abraham caved to their exhaustion and stopped watching the windows; and both men find their places for a few hours’ much-needed sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Big question! So, watching s7, I have some excellent less-than-happy Negan x Daryl plot bunnies, which I will be writing no matter what--BUT the question is, should they be in this series, or separate? If included here, they'll make for some darker scenes, and some extra fluffy Rickyl hurt/comfort. Otherwise, they're just they're own gritty stories lol.
> 
> And for the limited requests I've received for other pairings than just Rickyl, rest assured, there will be. I have some Caryl prison feels to get through, too. I've even got some angry Negan x Rick vibes.


End file.
